


Baking with Miss Marple

by TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Fluff, Profound Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge/pseuds/TheBoxedStuffDoesntGetBetterWithAge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OLDER WORK</p><p>Pure fluff. Don't ask why and enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking with Miss Marple

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, this used to be posted under my first username, which later became my pseudonym, which now no longer is. (I made an account on here just for kicks and never knew I'd actually be posting anything and then the whole thing kind of spiralled. Well, you know how it is.) I shamelessly deleted the bastard, but wanted to keep my works attached to my newly chosen name, so this is what this new post is. If this goes against any fanf(r)ic(k)ing rules, I bow my head down in shame.
> 
> Work originally posted on: 19th November 2013 as soletstrythis

“I _need_ pie. Give me _pie_ ,” Cas is holding on to the clerk’s collar, desperate for that final piece of the puzzle that would make Dean forgive him. But it’s a crucial piece – without it, everything falls. The blue-vested employee is obviously not caving in, and he’s starting to feel ridiculous just holding on to him like that when he hears a light clearing of the throat behind him.  
  
“You _do_ know you can actually bake a pie yourself?”  
  
He turns around to notice there is a perfectly harmless-looking old lady standing right behind him.  
  
“I can?” he responds. “How?” he sort of growls.  
  
The old lady is hesitant, obviously disliking Cas’s still hostile demeanor. He grabs her hand and gives her his classic wide-eyed pleading stare, “ _Show me how._ ” And after a moments’ thought he adds the magic, “Please.”  
  
The corners of the lady’s mouth turn up and she pats their interwoven palms with her other hand. “Come on, dear. We’ll need another trip around the store, if we are to do this. A pie is only as strong as the weakest of its ingredients.”  
  
Cas is fascinated by the baking wisdom of this old sage as he follows her politely around the store, soaking in all the knowledge about fresh cherries as opposed to canned ones, checking for the amount of artificial sweeteners, shortening vs. butter, milk yes/no and so forth. In a good 15 minutes' time they seem to have acquired everything necessary and they are standing in front of the store entrance. The lady starts jotting down the recipe, explaining everything to Cas, but he just keeps staring hopelessly into her eyes as if all the tips are simply flying over his head.  
  
“Oh, dear. Look, this might sound a bit forward, but this house of yours … Where you were planning to bake the pie. Is it very far?”  
  
Cas thinks for a moment. Why is this lady trying to get the location of The Men of Letters' bunker? She’s not a demon, that much he knows, still…  
  
“I could come with you and help…”  
  
Oh. _Oh!_ This whole pie business sounded complicated and messy. The more he thought about it, the more Cas was certain he would like that…  
  
“I would like that. Thank you.”  
  
The old lady smiled and followed him. The next problem was, how to get them there. Before, when Cas was alone, he just - as Dean would say - zapped himself to the store. Now he had an unknowing companion. He could try getting a cab, but he was still a little clumsy with the whole cab exchange thing. So, he decided to stick to the proven methods and touched the old lady’s forehead to knock her out and zapped them back to the bunker. Once safe within its walls he touched her forehead again.  
  
“Ooh, that… hmm… what?”  
  
“Are you OK?” he crowded her face with his peering blues. “You seemed to be gone for a moment…”  
  
The lady composed herself, still looking bewildered, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had these moments where she just drifted off before. In fact, since she had turned 70 they were coming around more and more often.  
  
“Don’t you worry yourself, dear. I’ll be fine. Take me to the kitchen?”  
  
Cas grabbed the bags and took her to the place where Dean usually did his magic. It made him feel extra special that he was going to apprentice in his share of it. The old lady started rummaging around for appropriate dishware, while Cas ruffled the bag of pie ingredients and spread them on the counter. The old lady seemed to have found what she needed – three types of containers and some cutlery.  
  
“Now, this will take a little under two hours. Will that be alright?” Cas nodded and seemed to have engaged himself in another one of his staring spells.  
  
“Lovely, dear. I’d like to get started on the crust and I’d really like your help, but I can’t let you do that in those fancy clothes of yours. Please take off the coat and go change into something more … appropriate.”  
  
Cas frowned, but he did not want to offend this guru or perhaps even change her mind about helping him, so he neatly folded his coat over a chair and left the kitchen to find some pie baking clothes. He was pretty sure any kind of leisure clothing would do and since his size was closer to Dean’s, he chose the older brother’s wardrobe to find something fit. He pulled on a Led Zeppelin shirt and left his own clothes spread out on Dean’s bed, planning to get back into them as soon as this messy pie business was over. He hoped he’d be able to keep Dean’s shirt undisturbed and return it without notice.  
  
The kitchen was already filled with sounds and the old lady was poking some white matter in a bowl with a dodgy-looking electrical device.  
  
“I went ahead with the crust. I wrote it all down for you in front of the store, but the nub of the matter is, you put Crisco, flour and salt into a bowl and mix all of it up nicely so it looks evenly lumpy. So, no brain surgery really. You’re just in time to witness the adding of the water. You look very nice, by the way,” she smiled at him.  
  
Cas looked down at his attire and then back up to the wise woman.  
  
“Thank you. The shirt is Dean’s. I don’t have anything appropriate,” and when it was time for the old lady to frown he added, “Here. I don’t have anything appropriate _here_.” Then he fixed his famous frowny stare on the bowl of crust.  
  
“So, Dean your boyfriend? The one we’re making this pie for?”  
  
Cas looked shocked and appalled.  
  
“Oh, don't worry. We get all sorts 'round here. My next door neighbor’s got married ones. I’m no old prude when it comes to these things …”  
  
Cas clears his throat and answers: “Dean’s not my boyfriend. He’s my… a friend. The pie is for him and his brother. Sam. They’ve been very … helpful to me in my … affairs … and I can’t say I’ve managed to return the favor. In fact I seem to have … erred. Gravely. Many times over. I need to make things right again.”  
  
The old lady sighed and smiled, “With a pie?”  
  
“Dean loves pie!” Cas jumped at the prompt. Then he saw the smirk on the lady’s face and added, “And Sam loves … food.”  
  
The old lady had been adding spoons of water to the bowl, poking the crust with the electrical device. She showed Cas what it looked like when she found it to be ready and it seemed like some sort of clay. She then worked it into two balls. He stuck a finger into one of them and she playfully smacked his hand.  
  
“No toying with the doe, mister. The less you play with it, the lighter and flakier it’s going to turn out.”  
  
Cas put his finger down apologetically.  
  
“Now we flatten it a bit, cover it in plastic wrap and put the whole thing in the refrigerator for a half an hour.”  
  
Which is exactly what she did and then turned to Cas, “Now I’m just going to turn the oven on, because we need to preheat it to 425 degrees. Then we can get started on the filling and you can tell me all about these two lovely brothers. Or either one of them you particularly fancy.” She grinned. “Also, I'll expect some more help from you for this second part.”  
  
Cas hummed and watched her put a saucepan on the stove. He opened the can of cherries for her and added it to the mix of sugar, cinnamon and flour she had ready to cook over medium heat as she told him. He was fascinated by the sounds, smells and the visual imagery of the thickening mixture.  
  
“So, this Dean lad. Is he handsome?” the old lady finally asked, after Cas had been rambling on for the last 10 minutes about how Dean loves to take care of people, especially Sam, his brother, but also everyone else that comes into his life, yet he hardly ever takes the time to take care of himself and how Cas feels that he needs to be the one to do that for him.  
  
For a moment the angel undercover was caught off guard and he blurted out, “Very.” He coughed right after that and added, “You know. _Aesthetically pleasing._ If these sort of things matter to you. Because they actually don’t. Matter. He’s just a very good man.”  
  
“And that’s what matters,” the old lady joined him for the chorus. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dear, but you're obviously sweet on that sweet tooth of yours.”  
  
Cas was just plain confused now, “Dean is not a tooth. He's human. And I have no idea what he tastes like. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s something closer to burgers." He paused, then fixing his two blues firmly on her solemnly stressed, "And those are not sweet.”  
  
The old lady chuckled, “I’m sure you’re right, dear. Anyway, this is ready. Would you be so kind and fetch the crusts out of the refrigerator.”  
  
Cas obliged and then followed her instructions to spread out the first crust into the pie-shaped plate. She then poured in the filling and after they made the lattice top together. Cas was very slow at first as he was trying to get each strip to exactly match the one before, but by the fourth one he had noticed that his companion was just having fun with it, so he relaxed into the task and trusted his touch. They popped the prepared pie into the oven and the old lady started shuffling through the dirty dishes.  
  
“I don’t want to impose, dear, but I would very much appreciate a cup of coffee.”  
  
“Of course,” was Cas’s happy reply as he had just recently observed how to make a nice pot of this popular hot beverage.  
  
He started making the coffee and placed two cups on the table by the window. He observed the old lady while the coffee brewed and noticed her sighs and her awkward movements.  
  
“Please leave those and sit. You’ve done more than enough. I’ll finish them later.”  
  
She turned around and gave him one of the nicest smiles he had ever seen, “Oh, that’s nice of you. Thank you, dear.”  
  
She walked over to the table and sat down. She looked through her pockets and found the pie recipe, added something to it and left it on the table.  
  
“For you. When you want to make this for your … _friend_. Friends. Next time.”  
  
She smiled as Cas brought the coffee pot to the table.  
  
“Thank you so much, you’ve been most helpful.”  
  
He got up and leaned over the old lady as if to give her a kiss on the cheek. The next moment they were at her house and he gently placed her on the chair in her kitchen. He found a cup and filled it with coffee, touched her one last time and then zapped himself back to the dishes. The kitchen already smelled lovely when he got back and the crust was starting to get goldeny. He looked to the table for the recipe slip and read:  
  
_Bake until the crust gets golden brown (30-35 minutes)._  
  
_TURN OFF THE OVEN!_  
  
_Use a cloth to take out the pie plate._  
  
_Leave to cool by the window._  
  
_Dear, when your friends come home, let them wash up and change and afterwards ask them if they’d like some coffee and a treat. Then bring each of them a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. Make sure you serve Dean second and make his slice notably bigger than his brother’s. You are a lovely man, don’t you ever doubt that. Love Ms. Marple_  
  
_PS: The secret ingredient to a good pie is always love._  
  
Cas sighed at Miss Marple's obviously erroneous conclusion - he felt far from lovely and lately all he seemed to know was doubt - then put the paper away. He left the pie on the window sill and set out to finish the dishes when he heard noises coming from in front of the house. Dean and Sam came in and Sammy rushed inside, while Dean stopped at the door where he spotted an issue of Busty Asian Beauties in a bag hanging from the coat rack.  
  
“Cas?” he yelled out.  
  
“Yes, Dean,” the angel replied from the kitchen.  
  
“Did you go _shopping_?” was Dean's next question as he came into the kitchen and nearly had his head explode at the sight of his angel doing the dishes in his Led Zeppelin shirt. “And is that my shirt?” Cas was about to answer, when he was beaten to the punch by another question, “Is that pie? Did you make pie?”  
  
Cas sighed. “Yes. To everything,” and peered down to the floor.  
  
“Huh,” was Dean’s reaction. That and the tiniest hint of a smile. “It looks good, Cas. I can’t wait to see how it tastes,” he added, inspecting the pie he fetched off of the window sill.  
  
“You can’t see flavors, Dean,” Cas informed him. “And you should have a shower and change your clothes first. Then you should enjoy some coffee and a treat with Sam.”  
  
Dean gave him a puzzled look, one Cas was no stranger to, and snorted, “OK, Grandma. Sam won’t be joining me, though. He just came to make himself pretty and then he’s heading on to speak to a witness slash hot girl interested in him over dinner. So, I guess you’ll have to do for company.”  
  
The older Winchester moved in the direction of his room as the younger one flew out the door with a 'Hi Cas, bye Cas'. Cas then followed Dean as he remembered that he had left his clothes on Dean’s bed and as the baking was done now, he no longer needed his pie clothes. He knocked on the door with a low ' _Dean_ ' and entered the room to find his Winchester sitting on the bed with his tie in his hand.  
  
Dean cleared his throat.  
  
“Uh, Cas, uh, hi… I was just…putting these away,” he motioned to the pants and shirt already neatly folded on the chair. “I think you should keep the shirt. For tonight, at least. It looks good on you. And it must be more comfortable than those Mormon clothes you insist on wearing. You look practically naked without that coat of yours,” he chuckled.  
  
“Dean…” Cas reached out a hand to touch the shoulder of the other man fumbling with the tie in his hand, trying to set it aside. “It’s OK. I understand. You can keep the tie too,” he said with as much compassion as he could offer.  
  
Dean let out another “Huh” and Cas was pretty sure he was ready to give him a “What? What would I do with your corny tie, dude?” when Dean just leaned into his touch and eased his head on Cas’s hip. Cas squeezed him in a strange embrace and said the words that were burning the back of his vessel’s lungs this whole time: “I’m sorry, Dean.”  
  
Dean squeezed tighter into him and let out some muffled sounds that Cas was just barely able to decypher as, “I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
Cas sat down next to Dean. which allowed them to wrap their arms around each other properly, Dean tucking his head under Cas's chin. After a while the hunter pulled back awkwardly with an “OK, enough with this Julia Roberts - Sandra Bullock exchange, I need a shower. And then it’s pie time.”  
  
A very much confused yet pleased Cas left Dean to his business and returned to the kitchen. He looked at the coffee pot for a moment and then shook his head. _I’m sorry, Miss Marple, but Dean Winchester is a beer man._ He cut two slices of pie and decided to partake in the beer drinking. He was awoken some long moments later by Dean's nearing footsteps from what seemed to have been just staring out of the window idly.  
  
He took the plates and the beers and upon meeting Dean, nodded to him in the direction of the TV room. Dean followed his instruction and sat on the couch. Cas set down his plate and bottle and handed the other beer and the bigger slice to Dean. Dean looked at his plate, then at Cas’ and then at his plate again and grinned, “Thanks, Cas.” Then he patted the other end of the couch and leaned back into his side.  
  
As Cas was settling down Dean cut off a chunk of pie with his little fork, smelled it and put it in his mouth. The noise that followed made Cas almost drop his plate.  
  
Dean groaned, then grumbled and finished with a sigh. He looked at Cas in a way that made the angel feel like he was caught in a circle of holy fire - but in a good way - and said in a low rumble, “Cas, you’re an angel!”  
  
“I know, Dean," Cas returned confusedly. "And so do you. In fact you’ve known for a while now.” Then he added, “How’s the pie?”  
  
Dean laughed cheerfully and answered, “I could kiss you right now, man. This is the best freaking pie ever! How’d you pull this off?”  
  
“ _Dean_. You are of course welcome to kiss me whenever you wish to, though I sense that action would only result in more emotional distress on your part.”  
  
Cue Dean's frowny face.  
  
“As for the pie, I had some very good instructions from a caring … friend. A Miss ... Marple. The secret ingredient is supposedly love, though I did not notice it being added to the mix at any point.”  
  
“OK, Cas, you can keep your secrets,” Dean replied to the obvious ramblings of the angel. “As long as you keep making the pie,” he finished with a meaningful smirk.  
  
Cas looked at Dean who as usual failed to understand, but he decided to let it go this one time,  
  
“I will always make pie when you call, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the Miss Marple thing is a shameless lark. But once I got the name into my head, it was impossible to change it and its connotations. I beg you all to forgive my gall. ;-)


End file.
